Part 38 (2/2)
”Let's have it, man.”
Nevins laid his palette aside, and, seating himself astride the back of a chair, surveyed Ardly impressively.
”I can't see that there is any use,” he remarked.
Ardly threw the end of a cigar at him and squared up wrathfully. ”Are you a d.a.m.ned fool or a utilitarian?” he demanded.
”She left the Honorable somebody,” said Nevins, slowly.
”By Jove! what a woman!”
”She came to America.”
”You don't say so!”
”She is in New York.”
”What!”
Ardly left his chair and straightened himself against the mantel.
”How do you know?” he asked.
”I have seen her.”
”Seen her!”
”Her photograph,” concluded Nevins, suavely.
”Where?”
”In Ponsonby's show-case, on Fifth Avenue, near Thirtieth Street.”
”How do you know it is she?”
”Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned! Don't I know Mariana?”
”Is it like her?”
”It is a gem; but you know she always photographed well. She knew how to pose.”
”Has she changed?”
”Fatter, a trifle; fairer, a trifle; better groomed, a great deal--older and graver, I fancy.”
”Well, I never!” said Ardly, and he whistled a street song between half-closed lips.
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